the fun never ends.
You know the drill -- click on the picture to see the rest of the photos from the Wind Dancers BBQ.

back | next
back to archives | bluepoof.com
email me

the back story.
Why is this so exciting? Well, as I mentioned last time, I was having a little bit of An Issue getting the carbs seated onto the engine. Peter came over last night, and -- I'm darkly gleeful to report -- had the same problem. He was practically standing on the carbs and jumping up and down upon them, but yet they would not seat. He suggested moving the intake manifolds off of the carbs, and attaching them to the engine first; this way, we'd be trying to seat the carbs into the rubbery intake manifolds, as opposed to seating the intake manifolds onto the steel engine. Like all good ideas, this required work -- I'd have to take the carbs completely off again.

Fortunately for everyone involved, my neighbor Mark appeared at about this time. I was able to shoo Peter off with Mark ("Mark has such a cute kitten! Why don't you go PLAY WITH THE KITTEN for a few minutes?") while I pulled off all the hosing again, marked the hoses and intakes with masking tape again, and removed the carbs again. The upside to all of this is that I can now remove an entire set of carbs -- including marking the hoses -- in less than 10 minutes. There's one for the resume, I tell you.

After I had my turn playing with Mark's adorable pudgypudgeface kitten, it was back out to the garage. We twisted off the intake manifolds, seated them onto the engine, and I started the glorious task of re-inserting the carbs. Everything went fairly well, except for the choke plunger needles, whose soft plastic threads had started to strip a little bit on the outside. I'd really like to be in a room alone for just 10 minutes with whomever decided that those threads should be soft plastic instead of something like, oh, say, metal. At any rate, Peter and I spent a few minutes alternating between trying to thread the damned choke plungers and resting/stretching/mentally resolving Never To Look At Another Carburetor Ever Again Dammit. We got the rear one on, got the little rubber boot on, got the front plunger threaded in....and from the depths of inside his bike, I hear Peter say "I didn't do it."

This was not so good. "Didn't do what?" I asked. "Well," the love of my life began, "it seems as though this rubber boot is torn." Hrm. I peered around him, down into the murky blackness that lies in the pits of hell that are these carburetors. Sure enough, the stupid rubber boot had torn, and almost clear around, too. At this point we said, "well, screw this" and closed up shop for the night.

This morning, while sipping coffee and not doing any actual work at my day job, I got to thinking about that rubber boot. Since if I'm not doing any work, neither should anyone else, I walked into Tony's office to talk to him about the boot. We conferred, and decided that, well, that boot is pretty much just a dust seal. It doesn't seal a vacuum, nor does it hold in liquid. Therefore, to hell with it, it can stay torn for a little bit. I made up my mind to reassemble the bike, order the new boot, and wait to install it until the next dark day that the carbs are out. Obviously, if this plan goes awry, it is all Tony's fault.

So, tonight, I came home from work and, well, got to work. I greased up the throttle cables and re-installed them, replaced the airbox (3 new bruises and counting), hooked the fuel lines back up, and replaced the tank. I turned the key, flipped the engine switch on, hit the starter....and it was alive!

I let it idle for a minute, then hooked the carb sync gauges up to the new tubing I'd put in. Funny how much more in sync the carbs are when they're, y'know, actually attached to the engine. They were synched perfectly. There was just enough gas left in the tank to sync the carbs and check the idle, and then, in a heavenly moment of glory, it sputtered bravely, chugga-chugga'ed, and gave its last. The tank has nothing more to give.

And there we are.

non-carburetor-related news.
Sadly, there isn't much. Last Saturday was our annual Wind Dancers BBQ party. It was, as always, a bunch of fun. We cooked ribs, sat around and ate, watched "On Any Sunday, Part 2" (which, I have to admit, I liked far more than the original), gave out club awards, and just had a good time.

This should be a good year for the club; we've got some new members to keep things interesting, and there are already some good rides being planned (though they may end up being expensive -- one idea being tossed around is a tour of some of the favorite accessory shops in the area!). I'm continuing my fine tradition of being the Membership Diva for the club, which I really enjoy doing. So, hey, if anyone reading this is interested in joining WOW, either as a full member or -- if you're male -- a support member, let me know! It's pretty inexpensive, and it's a good cause. Plus, as you all know, my first column for them will be in the March/April 2003 issue. And I know you just can't get enough of me.

Let's see. Motorcycle USA gets full props from me for accepting the one-piece rain suit back as an exchange (even though I was dumb and removed the tags), and for sending me the equivalent two-piece rain suit with no restocking fee. I just paid the one-piece's shipping back to them, and the $10 difference in cost between the items. They were prompt, answered my questions via email the same day I'd asked them, and immediately shipped the new suit once they got my return back. Two thumbs up.

The new rain suit looks like it will fit better; no pregnant dwarf physiology needed. Even with size XXS, the jacket and pants are a bit baggy, but, hey, we shrimps take what we can get. Naturally, it hasn't rained since I got the suit, so I can't really comment on how they work for their intended purpose; I did, however, wear the jacket yesterday when I rode my bicycle in to work, and it works well as a windbreaker.

upcoming events.
If the weather holds up, I'm going to try to get a ride in this weekend. Today was one of those days that was really meant for being outside riding, as opposed to setting up internationalization architecture. My calendar is mercifully empty all day Saturday and Sunday, so hopefully a ride can be smooshed in there.

We're all still on the waiting list for the MSF dirt class in San Jose. I'll probably call tomorrow to make sure we haven't been forgotten.

My mom is coming out to California to visit sometime in April or May. I'm trying to convince her to come to our track day on April 22 (er, as a spectator), but I don't think she's having any of that. There's being supportive of your insane motorcycle-riding daughter from afar, and then there's actuallly watching her on a track. I'm only teasing her; I can't imagine it'd be terribly interesting to watch someone else's track instruction. Besides, I'll be nervous enough with like fifteen million people I know there taking the class, too. All I'd need is my mom there, too ("no, mom, it's ok, you're supposed to put your knee down on the ground...yes, mom, yes, I know, no, mom, it's ok, open your eyes...oh, christ.").

This is reminding me that CJ and I were unofficially in charge of figuring out how the heck to get all of our bikes up to Thunderhill. I suppose we should eventually start looking into that. I did find a nice trailer that I liked, for only $2000, but for some reason, Peter laughed at me when I suggested that we split the cost. I can't imagine why.

Okedoke, time to curl up on the couch with the cats and this month's RiDE magazine...and be very very thankful that the Superhawk is done. That means the space in my garage will free up soon, and I can bring co-worker Ian's Nighthawk over to work on!